Chapter 611: Her Turn to Give Orders
Chapter 611: Her Turn to Give Orders
The pendant pulsed.
Not cold. Not warm. Something else entirely.
Three hundred miles away, Natalia Kuzmina was listening to every word. Feeling every emotion that crossed my heart. And for the first time since this whole disaster started, the pendant felt almost approving.
Like maybe, just maybe, she was starting to understand why I couldn’t resist collecting broken beautiful women who refused to back down from impossible fights.
"Fine," I said. "But we do this carefully. No unnecessary risks."
"Define unnecessary."
"Anything that could get you hurt, killed, or disappeared by the VHC’s black ops division."
"So basically everything fun." She grinned. "I accept your terms."
She kissed me. Soft at first. Then harder. Her body pressed against mine as the wind whipped around us. We were forty-seven stories up, surrounded by the secret garden she’d never shared with anyone else, and for a moment nothing existed except the warmth of her mouth and the certainty that I was absolutely going to hell for the things I kept doing.
The pendant burned cold.
Natalia’s displeasure registered through our bond like a spike of ice through my sternum. But underneath it, buried deep, was something that felt almost like grudging acceptance.
Maybe even respect.
Reyna pulled back, breathing hard. Her lipstick was smeared. Her hair was wild. She looked like someone who’d been thoroughly kissed and wanted more.
"Tonight," she said. "My room. We have two days before everything goes to shit. I’m not spending them sleeping alone."
"Your sister..."
"Knows exactly what’s happening and has chosen not to intervene." She grabbed my hand and started walking toward the access door. "Besides, I asked her to clear my schedule tomorrow. Personal day. No assessments. No training. Just me and you, figuring out how to save your ass from the VHC."
"And the other thing?"
"That too." Her smile was pure sin. "I’m told practice makes perfect."
We made it to her suite in record time.
The door barely closed before she was on me, pushing me back against the wall with that deceptive strength that always caught me off guard—the kind of raw power that came from years of channeling electricity through her nervous system. Her mouth crashed against mine with hungry insistence. Her hands worked at my shirt with impatient, almost violent tugs, yanking it over my head and tossing it somewhere behind her without looking. The pendant bounced against my bare chest as she pressed closer, eliminating even the smallest gap between us.
"Reyna..."
"Shut up." She bit my lower lip hard enough to sting. "Talk later. This now."
I wasn’t going to argue. Not when she was looking at me like that.
Her jacket hit the floor with a heavy thud, the expensive fabric forgotten in an instant. The tank top followed, pulled off in one fluid motion. She wasn’t wearing a bra underneath. Her breasts pressed against my chest as she wrapped her arms around my neck, her tongue pushing past my lips with aggressive certainty, claiming my mouth like territory that belonged to her.
The Nectar hummed between us, that divine gift working its magic. Amplifying everything. Turning every point of contact into white-hot sensation. Turning simple touch into something that bordered on overwhelming.
I grabbed her hips and spun us around in one smooth motion, pinning her against the wall instead. She gasped against my mouth, the sound somewhere between surprise and approval. Her legs wrapped around my waist as I lifted her, supporting her weight easily while my mouth traced a deliberate path down the column of her neck. Salt and expensive perfume. The taste of her skin was becoming wonderfully familiar, a flavor I was already starting to crave.
"Bedroom," she managed between ragged breaths. "Bed. Now."
"Bossy."
"You like it," she shot back, her nails digging into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks.
I carried her through the suite, navigating by memory and the occasional bump against furniture we were both too distracted to avoid. The bedroom door was already open—she’d left it that way, clearly planning this exact scenario. I tossed her onto the massive mattress and watched her bounce once, her crimson hair spreading across the black silk pillows like spilled wine, like blood against shadow.
She propped herself up on her elbows. Her jeans rode low on her hips, revealing the edge of black lace underneath. Her eyes tracked my movements with the same focus she brought to combat assessments.
"Strip," she said.
"Who’s in charge here?"
"Me. Obviously." She kicked off her shoes. "Now strip or I’ll do it for you."
"That’s not exactly a threat."
"It’s a promise."
I stripped. Slowly enough to make her squirm. Pants first. Then boxers. By the time I stood naked before her, she was biting her lip hard enough to leave marks.
"Your turn," I said.
She didn’t hesitate. The jeans came off in one smooth motion. The black lace followed. She lay back against the pillows, completely bare, completely unashamed. Her body was a landscape of muscle and curves. Strong thighs. Narrow waist. Full breasts that rose and fell with her quickened breathing.
"Well?" she demanded. "Are you going to stand there staring or are you going to do something about it?"
I was on her before she finished the sentence.
My mouth found her nipple. She arched into me, her nails raking down my back as I sucked and licked and teased. Her hips ground against mine. I could feel how wet she was. How ready.
But I wasn’t done yet.
I kissed my way down her stomach. Past her navel. Lower. She tensed as she realized my destination. Her thighs trembled.
"Satori..."
"My turn to give orders." I pushed her legs apart. "Relax."
"I don’t know how to..."
"Then learn."
My tongue found her center.
She screamed.
Not from pain. The sound that ripped from her throat was pure overwhelmed pleasure. Her hands grabbed my hair, pulling me closer even as her hips bucked against my mouth. I held her down and worked her with lips and tongue, learning her rhythm, finding the spots that made her shake.
The Nectar pulsed through our contact. Every sensation amplified. Every nerve ending alive.
"Oh god oh god oh god..."
Her Spanish emerged. Incoherent curses mixed with my name and desperate pleas for more. I gave her more. My fingers joined my tongue, sliding inside her while I focused attention on her clit. She was tight around me. Wet. Clenching with every stroke.
"I’m going to... I can’t... Satori!"